


I've Got Friends in Closed Spaces

by theopteryx



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: no_tags, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theopteryx/pseuds/theopteryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the no_tags challenge for the prompt of 'accidental frottage.' Set in the middle of a tour, vaguely 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got Friends in Closed Spaces

“I,” Gerard said around a mouthful of smoke, “think that is an _amazing_ idea.” He paused for a moment, dramatically, as if waiting for the weight of his opinion to settle on the room.

“You’re drunk,” Frank said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t get a vote." 

“Yeah, well, you’re high, so fuck you,” Gerard said, slouching down farther into the old, beat-up sofa. He looked annoyed rather than deflated, which was good, but Frank knew he wasn’t going to share the six-pack in the fridge upstairs now out of spite.

Frank sighed and scratched his nose. That beer would go great with the take-out they had still had shoved in the back. “Only a little. C’mon, man. Seriously? Sardines? I thought you were over this recess shit with the kickball game last week.”

“I’ll kick _your_ balls.” Gerard said, taking another drag on his cigarette and staring off into the distance.

"I _kicked_ your balls,” Frank said, rolling his head on the back of the sofa to look over at Gerard, “like two weeks ago. Been there, done that, pretty sure you still got the bruises.”

“I’ll kick your _mom’s_ balls,” Gerard grumbled quietly into his beer. Frank smugly noticed he didn’t argue.

“I don’t like where this conversation is going,” Mikey said from his spot on the floor. Mikey was also pretty drunk, and also pretty high, but he hadn’t started talking about the _Star Wars_ Christmas Special yet so he was probably better off than the rest of them.

Frank pointed at Mikey with his beer. “No way, man, you were the one that suggested this shit. Seriously, dude, Sardines?”

Mikey shrugged and didn’t move when his glasses slid down his nose a little. “This house is awesome. It was made for Sardines.”

“You just want an excuse to get that tech girl into a dark corner somewhere so you can get your hand up her shirt,” Frank said.

Mikey just shrugged. He didn’t argue either.

"Man, seriously, I don't think I even remember how to play this shit," Frank said, "since I'm no longer _eight years old_." He rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed.

Ray shifted forward from his place in the bean bag chair in the corner until he was perched with his arms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped in front of him, like whenever he did whenever he was about to depart some serious knowledge. Usually about robots or some shit.

"It's like reverse hide-and-seek, you know? One person's It and they have to hide and everybody else has to try and find them and then hide with them, and the last person to find them is the next It person," he said. "Ad infinitum."

Frank sighed again, even louder. "Thank you, Mr. Toro."

Ray shrugged. "It'll be fun."

"I doubt that."

"C'mon, man. Some of the other guys said they'd play, and some of the girls, too. It _is_ a pretty awesome house for Sardines." Ray said, using his Placating-Frank voice. It worked way too fucking well.

Frank sighed again, but this time more resigned.

The truth of it was, though - the house _was_ awesome. And _totally_ made for Sardines, if Frank had actually been into that shit. Touring really fucking sucked sometimes, but a lot of times it was totally amazing, like when the local kids who booked your show put you up in one of their friend’s houses apparently seemed to own half the country and all of the beer in the world, or something. At least in the upstairs fridge.

Most of the other kids were already upstairs weaving around, lazing back on the couches and way past the part of smoking up where moving around a whole lot seemed a good idea. Frank itched to join them. He scratched his nose again and yawned.

Seriously, the show tonight had been awesome but all he really wanted was to take a long fucking hot shower on somebody else’s dime, jerk off onto the marble tile, smoke, shit, and then crawl into one of the huge beds upstairs and pass the fuck _out_. None of this recess crap.

Mikey was set on it, though. And when Mikey was set on something – well.

“It’s gonna be _awesome_ ,” Gerard said, exhaling smoke again. “I _promise_.”

*

Picking his way across the living room was like picking his way across a minefield, but instead of mines it was the bodies of stoners and the kids who’d already worked past drunk and were firmly into pre-hangover territory. They grumbled at Frank as he stumbled over them but made no effort to move.

“Sorry!” Frank hissed. Fucking hell, where the fuck was Gerard? Knowing his luck, everybody’d already found him and they were all laughing about how much Frank sucked at Sardines. Frank hated sucking at _anything_ , even Gerard and Mikey’s dumb games.

Frank stumbled through the dark of the kitchen (one of them, anyway, fuck this huge fucking house) and accidentally slammed his hip into the counter.

“Fuck!” He said, clutching his side. “God fucking dammit, fucking fuck _fuck_!”

“Frank?”

Frank jerked his head up. “What?”

Ray peered at him from out of the shadows, his hand paused on the railing to the stairs leading up to the upper floor. “You okay, dude?”

“I’m fine, I just busted my side,” Frank said, still pressing his fist against the throb. “You find Gerard yet?”

“Nah, man, I’m about to go up to the attic. You wanna come with?”

Frank just shook his head. “No way, dude. That is spider central. If Gerard’s in the attic he can just rot and let them eat him, because I’m not bailing him out.”

Ray bobbed his head. “Fair enough.” He turned and headed up the stairs into the dark. Frank, being an awesome friend, totally listened for a few seconds to make sure he could hear his steps make it up the landing without being eaten by anything creepy. It sounded like he made it with his guts intact, but you never really knew.

Frank turned and started to make his way back through the kitchen. This was so dumb and now he had a lame-ass bruise on his hip for his trouble and Ray was probably still gonna get eaten, but, well. His choice. He was just debating saying screw it and going upstairs to start his planned out routine for the night (shower, spank it, smoke, shit, sleep - man, fuck Gerard, he could totally write lyrics, that was total fucking poetry) when he banged into another counter in the dark. 

"Mother _fucker_ ," he cried, "fucking _perfect_ , I swear to God, Gerard, when I find you I am going to punch your balls off." He closed his eyes and pressed his fist to his other side. The things he did for the Way brothers, seriously. Or, well, if he was being serious, the kind of serious he got when he was a little high and super tired, the things he did for Gerard - 

A stifled, breathy noise came out from somewhere to Frank's right and he paused, holding his breath. He listened again. It was hard to hear, what with the whole house creaking and shifting and practically fucking breathing on its own, but yeah - something was definitely in the room with him. He inched closer to the noise, quietly, quietly, practically fucking tiptoeing in his Converse.

He knelt down and yanked open the door to the long cabinet underneath the sink. Gerard's face blinked back out at him. 

"Please don't punch my balls off," he said, still staring into Frank's face. He curled back himself in the dark of the cabinet, his back pressed back against the side where it met the wall for the drawers. He was clutching a couple of beers to his chest and looked terribly uncomfortable.

Frank rolled his eyes and spared only a brief glance for the other guys before he started to climb in the cabinet as well, sliding over Gerard's thighs to try and press up in behind the pipes. "Only if one of those is for me, motherfucker."

Gerard shifted a little to accommodate Frank's body, but the space was so small there was mostly a lot of fumbling and slipping and Frank's hips pressed a little too comfortably against Gerard's thigh. He ignored it and made grabby hands at Gerard's beer, which he probably didn't see because they were crammed into a dark cabinet in a dark kitchen (which had given Frank two dark bruises already, fuck this fucking theme). 

Gerard passed the beer over anyway, though, and Frank had to use his teeth to pop the tab since his other arm was folded between his head and the wall. Awesome. If he tilted his head he could still drink without getting it all over his face. Mostly. _Awesome_. He took a swig and some spilled down his chin, dripping to Gerard's chest, but Gerard didn't notice.

"I figured I'd need supplies," Gerard said, fumbling a little with his own beer. "Didn't think you guys would find me so fast."

" _I_ found you so fast," Frank said, shifting again a little to alleviate the pressure on his hip. "That is beer-worthy."

"Where's everybody else?"

"Ray's in the attic getting eaten alive by something or another, Matt's outside, I think, looking in the bushes, Otter's passed out in the downstairs bathroom, that girl Jill is somewhere, Cathy is somewhere, and Mikey's getting lucky with that cute tech girl."

Frank couldn't see, but he knew Gerard raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yep."

"Well. Good for him."

"How do you feel being a pawn in your little brother's elaborate scheme to get laid?"

Gerard raised his beer in the air a few inches so it caught in the dim light from the crack in the cabinet. "I toast to his dedication. Also he totally owes me."

"Yeah he does," Frank said, shifting again. His hips _really_ fucking hurt.

They lay there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the quiet noises of the house and the drip of the pipes behind them. Frank thought about relaxing his body enough to rest his head on Gerard's chest, but that'd probably freak him out and it would be a lot harder to drink his beer that way. He sipped at it again, succeeding in not dribbling any into the dark.

He tried to relax a little bit back towards the wall (if there were bugs under here he was literally going to punch Gerard's balls off, seriously why the fuck would he choose this spot) but ended up pressing right against the sore spot where he'd hit the counter. He inhaled sharply and rolled back again, shifting his hips to get into a better position. Fuck this game, seriously.

"Would you stop squirming?" Gerard said, pressing him back against the wall a little. "You're too loud."

"My hips fucking hurt, man, I banged them on the counter trying to find your sorry fucking ass."

"Your hips hurt? You sound like a grandpa," Gerard said, yanking an arm out of the press of their bodies to jab at Frank's side. "I'm going to get you one of those walkers with the tennis balls on the feet and shit."

"Fucking cut it out, man!" Frank said, jerking away. He knocked a bottle of something or other over with the jerk of his feet, but he couldn't even move in the space to see.

Gerard did it again, though, and laughed, and since there wasn't anywhere for Frank to go but up he did just that, rolling back on top of Gerard until they were pressed together, his beer squashed somewhere near Gerard's armpit and his other free hand holding Gerard's arm back to stop him from jabbing him again. He could feel the unfinished wood of the paneling jabbing into his upper back through his t-shirt and it motherfucking hurt.

Frank couldn't see Gerard's face in the dark but he was weirdly quiet. Frank could only hear himself breathe. Gerard suddenly yanked his arm free again to jab at Frank's side and ended up hitting him square in the bone, right on the bruise, and Frank inhaled sharply and jerked his hips forward.

"What is _wrong_ with you," he hissed, kicking his knees in towards Gerard's sides as hard as he possibly could as punishment. Gerard jabbed him again, and Frank punched him in square in the chest, and Gerard bucked his hips so hard the back of Frank's head slammed up against the top of the cabinet.

"What the _fuck_ -" He started, but - oh, fuck, Gerard was hard, and he was _panting_.

"Gee, what-" He said, but Gerard just rasped out a "Shut the fuck _up_ " and bucked his hips up again. Frank was practically folded in half between the press of Gerard's body and the unmoving top of the cabinet, but he jammed his hand against the side by the pipes to give himself enough leverage to jerk his body back and press Gerard's hips back down.

"Mother _fucker_ ," Frank said, because nothing else appropriate really came to mind. His beer was still in his other hand and his back was against the underside of a kitchen counter and he was on top of Gerard who had a hand already up under Frank's shirt, hovering over the bruise, and a hard-on drilling into Frank's inner thigh. Frank was pretty fucking sure this was not how this game was supposed to go. At least not during any recess Frank ever played.

"Gerard, seriously - " Frank hissed, even as his hips moved, "what are you - "

Gerard snaked his free hand up and slapped it over Frank's mouth. Frank was about to bite the _shit_ out of him, because seriously what the _fuck_ , but then there were shuffling noises coming from outside the cabinet and Frank swallowed his words back down. 

"I don't know, man, I haven't seen them," one voice said. It sounded like Matt, maybe. They didn't flip on the lights and their voices were hushed so they must still have been trying to find Gerard as part of the game.

"Frank was in here earlier. But I think he punked out and went to bed." It was definitely Ray. At least he hadn't been eaten by attic dwellers or the hungry stoners in the living room.

"Did he get the big room on the second floor? Fuck him, man."

"Yeah, I think, but I don't know if he's up there yet."

Frank wanted to snarl at them that he hadn't punked out of _anything_ , thank you very much, and that he had the big room on the second floor because the last motel night he had to sleep in the bathtub because he was the smallest so _fuck them_ , fair was fucking _fair_ , but Gerard's grip over his mouth tightened again. 

Silenced but not mollified, Frank jerked his hips forward and Gerard half-moaned. Frank slapped his other hand over Gerard's mouth and pressed down, muffling the sound.

"Did you hear that?" Ray said, pausing somewhere in the kitchen. 

Frank tried not to breathe. Gerard stared up at him and he could barely see the wide-blown whites of his eyes in the dark. Gerard was still hard, and Frank would be lying if he hadn't been thrumming a little ever since the first time he slid over Gerard's hips, and he was definitely catching up to Gerard pretty fucking fast.

"Probably a rat or something, man, this place is probably crawling with them," Matt said. "Those leftovers still in the fridge?"

"Yeah, should be. Watch out for the curry, though, Otter ate it hours ago and he still smells like ass."

"Otter always smells like ass, man, I don't know if you can blame curry for that mess."

There were noises of rustling around in the kitchen, drawers opening, the fridge door closing. Frank could only breathe and try not to notice how sweaty Gerard's hand was as it covered his mouth.

"You want to split this?"

"Yeah man, sure," Ray said, and Frank could hear the tell-tale noise of someone drawing one of the stools up to the island in the middle of the kitchen and someone else cracking open the plastic top of the takeout. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He tried to shift, gently this time, but overbalanced in the dark and sat down too heavily on Gerard's hips. Gerard retaliated by pressing his fist holding the beer to Frank's side, and even though the material of his t-shirt, the coldness of the can and Gerard's fingers against the throb was enough to make him gasp into Gerard's palm.

Fine, fucking _fine_ , if Gerard wanted to play it _that_ way -

He slid his other hand over to the side until he could shove his half-empty beer can in the space between Gerard's shoulder and the back wall. Gerard jerked his hand like he wanted to stop him, to make him pause, but with one hand on Frank's mouth and the other still barely holding onto the beer as it was, he hesitated. 

Frank debated yanking Gerard's hand away from his mouth, considered it, thought about pulling it away and sucking on his neck, leaving a mark, but no, not the time - instead he ran his hand into Gerard's hair, his dirty, filthy hair and pushed back, practically yanking it, and Gerard's eyeballs just about rolled back in his head (he knew it, he _knew it_ , nobody could play with their own hair so much and not have it be a thing). Frank dug his fingernails into his scalp and Gerard's hips bucked up, and then again, and Frank could feel the vibrations from the noises he was holding back thrumming against his palm. 

He bucked again, with a purpose, and started rubbing his fully-hard dick against Gerard's in the dark. Gerard was doing his best not to throw Frank back up into the top of the cabinet but he wasn't doing the best job of it, so Frank folded even farther down towards Gerard's chest, rutting forward again. The stilted angle made Gerard's grip over his mouth dislodge, off-balance, and he fumbled at Frank's back, gripping him harder to pull him close. Frank could feel beer dripping onto his back but he didn't even fucking _care_. 

With his mouth finally free Frank leaned forward and did what he wanted, bit Gerard's jaw and neck and sucked so hard on the curve where it met the shoulder he knew it'd show for days, at the least, and Gerard just rolled with it, opened it up for Frank. He kept his hand over Gerard's mouth, catching all his little noises before they could escape. 

Fuck, why hadn't they done this before? Frank probably would have thought of something like this when he was doing his now-totally-irrelevant-nightly-routine, the part where he'd jerk off in the shower on somebody's else's dime, but this was eight million times better than his own hand on his dick. Even the fact that Gerard still smelled like every venue they'd hit this week on tour didn't make it any less awesome. 

His dick was practically aching in his pants now, pressed up against the denim and Gerard's hip and Gerard's raging hard-on, but Ray and Matt were still in the kitchen, eating and talking, and he was pushing it already, there was no way, judging by the noises Gerard was making already he'd probably fucking hit a high-note when he came, and if that didn't key the guys off to the fact that there were more than just rats under the sink, he didn't know what would. 

He slowed a little, then, but kept sucking on Gerard's neck, moving up to bite Gerard's earlobe. He was sweating, they both were, but it felt really fucking _good_. 

Finally, fucking _finally_ , he could hear Ray and Matt moving around in the kitchen and tossing away their trash. 

"You check the back? I think there's a pool room, or something, maybe he's out there," Matt said. 

"Nah, not yet. You wanna come with?" Ray said, carefully moving his stool back into place. "I'm getting pretty tired anyway, we should probably just call it a night whenever we find him."

"Sure, man. Drive tomorrow's gonna be a _bitch_. "

Frank couldn't hear Ray's response as they left the room together but he didn't fucking _care_. He pulled his hand away from Gerard's mouth at the same time as Gerard moaned loudly in frustration or relief, one of the two, and Frank lunged forward as best as he could to get more friction on their dicks. 

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ -" Gerard chanted, like he'd been saving his words until his mouth was free again, "f-fuck-"

He was about to come, Frank could tell, his back was tensed and his thighs were practically thrumming under Frank's hips. He pulled his hand in Gerard's hair tighter and yanked him up, crashing their mouths together as Gerard came, smothering his noises with a kiss. 

Frank kissed him while he finished, as his bones soothed out, but kept rocking his hips against Gerard's. He was close, so fucking close - Gerard wormed his free hand between them, popping the button on Frank's jeans open the best he could and shoving his hand under the waistband of his boxers. Frank gasped as Gerard got his hand on his dick, fingers warm from being over Frank's mouth. 

God, fuck - it took only a minute, maybe, of Gerard's hand on his dick and his warm breath on his face and his quiet voice saying _yeah, Frankie, come on_ in his ear that he finally felt that hum in all his veins, under his skin, and he had to shove his face into the crook of Gerard's neck as he came so he could stifle the noises out against the damp collar of his shirt. 

Afterwards Frank collapsed on Gerard, still panting, and gently released his hold on Gerard's hair. They lay there for a few minutes, just breathing, separating enough for them to sort out their limbs but not enough to actually get off of one another. Eventually Frank pulled away enough to look at Gerard, his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough now he could see his expression. He didn't look freaked out, or anything. So that was good. Frank didn't feel too freaked out. He felt pretty sober, though, and pretty sticky. 

"Listen, Gee -" he started, but he was blinded by the bright light of the kitchen as the cabinet door was yanked open. 

Mikey blinked at them and Frank was pretty sure he and Gerard both had the same deer-in-the-headlights-look, but he couldn't seem to make his face move. There was somebody behind him, somebody's feet, but Frank was still squinting into the light too much to actually see who it was. The tech girl, maybe. Oh god. Oh _god_.

Mikey just sniffled a little. He looked completely unperturbed. "Game's over. The other guys are done and I found you."

Gerard just sort of blinked. "You did."

"'Kay," he said. "We're going to bed."

"Okay." Frank said, slowly. 

"Okay." Mikey seemed to hesitate for a second, and then closed the cabinet door so they were bathed in darkness again. They stayed still until they heard the sound of their footsteps retreating out of the kitchen, even flipping the light off behind them again.

"...So." Gerard said, after several beats of awkward silence.

"So that was weird," Frank said.

"That was very weird," Gerard said. 

Frank hesitated a second, thinking, before pressing a finger to the side of Gerard's neck where there was already a dark mark from his mouth starting to appear. "Gee."

"Yes."

"This whole...thing. This stupid game was your idea, wasn't it. Not Mikey's."

Gerard fidgeted a little. "Maybe."

Frank had to bite back a laugh. "Fucking hell, you guys are just in _league_ with one another, aren't you."

Gerard shifted again, a little awkwardly. "...Maybe?"

Frank laughed, then, loud and rough. "Oh my God, listen - I can't believe you figured out a way for us to get all pressed together and couldn't have even hid in a fucking _bed_ , at least somewhere where I wouldn't end up with splinters in my back."

Gerard looked pained. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. C'mon. I've got the big room tonight." Frank pushed the door of the cabinet open, finally, and rolled off of Gerard and onto the kitchen floor. He fixed his pants while Gerard climbed out after him, wobbling a little on his de-cramping legs. His hair was a fucking wreck, more than usual, but Frank was pretty sure he didn't look much better. 

He reached out and grabbed the hem of Gerard's shirt, then, drawing him closer, and Gerard hedged forward a little hesitantly. He pressed his hands together like he always did when he was nervous. "Are you sure-"

"Of course I'm fucking sure, you idiot," Frank said, "Now come on, there's still time for the shower and the sex and the smoke and then the sleep, although, yeah, the shit is still on your own time."

Gerard blinked at him. "Wow, Frank, that was total fucking poetry."

Frank just grinned and pulled him closer. "I know, right? Now come on. It's gonna be awesome. I _promise_."


End file.
